Wrong Dose
by whit love
Summary: AU. Prison!Brittana. What if after all the person you need to trust the most isn't yourself? Would you do it... Would you trust her?
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N:_**_ I had a moment of inspiration so I decided to write this... Its sort of based on OITNB (Orange Is The New Black) plot but not like it AT ALL. Probably only 1% of this fic is similar to OITNB :P  
__hope you guys enjoy it tho._

_- S._

* * *

**_"I did something once. And my ghost won't let me forget." – James Cook, Skins Rise_**

* * *

**Inmate: **Lopez, Santana "Diabla". 27 years old.

**Code:** 476933

**Federal offense:** drug cartel, header

I grew up in the middle of a battlefield. Gunshots. Screams. Sirens. Music to my tiny ears since mom popped me out in a dark room.

In this motherfucking hell where nobody lives, only survives, guns were guns. Toys were changed by knives. And drugs took the place of gummy bears. I had no way out, nowhere else to run to, and honestly? I never thought about running.

Not once.

Until I meet **her.**

**################################################## #######**

_"What the fuck are you doing?" You laugh at your pathetic attempt to sound serious. "You're supposed to sell it, not sniff it up you asshole."_

_"Hum…" Delicious. Even high her voice can do things to you no one ever imagined doing. She throws her head back a little and you see her perfect features with the shitty light in the bedroom. Stunning. _

_You lick your top lip and sit back in bed, hands beside you for balance. She looks at you from the entrance of the ecstasy gates and you stare into her deep blue eyes. It's taking over her faster than expected and you can see it in her pupils. Dilating. Intensifying. _

_She's hums one more time and gets so close you feel her breath caress you lips. And for some reason you feel naked. She closes her eyes and whispers "I want to feel you. Don't move."_

_You stay still as she requested and the tips of her fingers start touching your thighs. Your inner thighs. Spreading electricity from wherever she touches to your whole body. You love how rawness drugs can bring out from people. Showing their deepest desires as an open book and sending them into burning flames. And you could watch them burn. For hours. Burning._

_Her fingertips are now stepping on your ribs, one by one, slowly burning you down with her. She knows how powerful her touch can be on your skin, on your lips, but not on your soul. She has you in the palm of her hand and you like it that way. Even though she has no idea. Or she doesn't show. Loving her gets you higher than any drug you ever tries or sold. Makes you burn faster, higher, louder. Oh but you love it so much. Don't you?_

_You start lying down in bed again as you feel her lips softly press on the pulping vein in your neck. The one that shows when you're going too fast. You throw your arms against the pillows and her body is pressed on top of yours. So slow it's almost torture. You want to feel her. Touch her. Press her. Slowly, her tongue is added to the painting, drawing uncertain figures in your neck as her fingers move up your sides to your arms._

_She starts kissing tiny bits of your jaw and it feels like every place she kisses it's left in flesh. Like she's ripping you apart just to tie you all together back again. And her lips finally reach yours, where she lingers a little longer before looking up to you from her higher place, gives you that perfect cut smile and says. "I really fucking love you, Santana."_

**_################################################## #######_**

"I have a name."

"Finally decided to cooperate, well done Lopez. Please, have a sit and share."

"No. The name is…. I mean… Her name is…."

"Yes?"

"Oh fuck."

"Language, Lopez!"

"Brittany! Her name is Brittany Pierce."


	2. Daddy's Girl

"_**A man should never neglect his family for business." – Walt Disney**_

* * *

**Inmate: **Fabray, Lucy Quinn. 28 years old.

**Code:** 200754

**Federal offense:** murder, first degree

**Observations:** 20 years life imprisonment reduced by providing the justice enough documents and proof to finish illegal gun contraband and arrest all the participants.

* * *

"I could kill for a fucking cigar, right now."

You nearly choke on the air you were breathing and sit right up, looking from your cellmate to the whole area. No guard in sight, not even on their watching room. You throw her your pillow, hitting the book and therefore her face.

"Are you out of your fucking mind, Q?" You whisper, looking over the area again. "Don't use the K word here, you dumbfuck."

Slowly and graciously, you watch her mark the page, close the book, grab your pillow and get up. She places your pillow back on its place and puts the book on the shelf, starting to walk outside. God, you hate so much when she does the silence walk. It's like she's a little kid punishing her mother for saying she can't have a cookie.

You check your shirt pocket and the cigarettes box it's still there. Even though you didn't took it out of the pocket since yesterday, but it's prison so… You never know who'll sneak in your cell at night and steal your shit. And also you had to give Rosalita 5 fucking Snickers for a pack of the shittiest cigarettes you've ever smoke.

Even though it's September, nearly ending, it's a little chilly outside today so you zip up your beige coat while you're walking the hall of cells to the backdoor. Suddenly it feels like you're in one of those slow motion moments when the bad guy is dragging a smoke while zipping his coat and walking through the night after one big crime. And you're a criminal too, so you're no different from him.

Quinn is already waiting for you by the semi open door, lighting and closing her grey lighter. You always ask her where the hell she got such an item and how she managed to bring it in because if you learned right from all these years in the wrong tracks, that's a man grey lighter covered with a very thin line of gold in the shape lines. The only answer she ever gave you, besides ignoring the question was even made, was _"A bad reputation is better than no reputation at all."_

You pass by her and the sun light almost hurts your eyes because it's shinning right on your sight line. The door closes beside you and Quinn walks beside you silently. You shove your hands in your pockets and look over your left shoulder to see Jones and Broadway walking towards the old oak tree by the end of the field.

This isn't time for your usual gathering but they must've seen you and Quinn leave the building. You don't mind having them around, not at all. Actually, watching Quinn cut off Broadway every time she's about to start giving us a speech on how she's an innocent victim for the thousand time is quite amusing.

"Lopez; Q." Jones waves as you reach the tree. You simply nod, as well as Quinn.

You look down and Broadway is already sitting down, legs crossed and hands on her knees like she's a Buddhist meditating. You hit her left foot smoothly, just to catch her attention and she opens her left eye, looking up at you.

"Weren't you Jewish?" You ask, while taking the cigarettes pack from your shirt pocket and handing one to Quinn, placing another in the end of your dry lips.

"As a matter of fact my mediation does not influence my religion in any way, so if you'll excuse me Santana, I need some mental privacy." She closes her eyes again and your lips form a simple smile, just enough to not let the cigarette fall on the floor.

Quinn lights up your cigarette first because, as she says, it's a golden rule to light someone's cigar before yours. You watch it burn fast as you take in the first breath of damned air. The poison reaches your lungs and you close your eyes, letting it all out through your parted lips, while a soft breeze grazes your skin.

"I heard there's a new white girl coming up soon." Jones informs and you feel like your throat is closing. You thought Brittany would be far away from here and wouldn't let herself get caught so easily.

"Oh, is that so? I've heard some buzz going between Evans and Disney Haircut but I thought it were just rumors."

**############################################**

"_Santana?" Brittany soft voice wakes you up from the half-asleep state in the couch. It's not that you don't like watching tv with her but you're tired as fuck from last night service, and you already know the lines from the Powerpuff Girls episode she's watching by heart. Even asleep you could quote it. But damn, you love the girl who likes the cartoons so, you know it all. Gladly._

_Plus she made you lay down on her lap and stroked your hair. It was obviously meant for you to sleep. _

"_Yes?" You clear your throat because you're sure she didn't hear you. "Yes babe?"_

"_What if you get caught?"_

_You take your arm away from your eyes and look up into hers. She's looking so deep through yours that it feels like she's trying to read your soul. You know being caught is a risk but it's worth it. The rush you feel running through your veins, the adrenaline that makes your heart beat like a maniac in acids, the thrill of the kill, is what makes you feel alive. But now, with Brittany in your life, you find it being harder and harder to leave every time you have to deliver something. It's like you became addicted to the rush and even though she might be your cure, you're not sure if you can cure yourself._

"_What about it, princess?" You smile as she giggles. She does this whenever you call her princess, which you find very adorable on someone you particularly feel like ripping the clothes off all the time._

"_I don't want it to happen, Santana." She starts stroking your forehead with her fingertips and your eyelashes start to beat slowly. You can't fall asleep, not now. "I'd rather run away with you than have you go to jail."_

_You shake your head and offer her the biggest smile you can, lifting up a little to kiss her soft pink lips. "Have I ever told you how fucking adorable you are?" _

"_Not today." She mumbles on your lips and holds your cheeks. "Promise me…" Kiss. "You won't get caught."_

"_You know I can't promise that…" You break the kiss to rest your forehead on hers. Eyes closed. Hands over her chest. Her heart is beating faster than usual and you know she's truly scared._

"_Why?" She whispers, soft as cotton candy and you feel her hands pressing on your ribs, pushing you closer._

"_I'm not God, Britt." You whisper back and move silently to sit on her lap._

"_Well you sure fuck like one." She's smiles and you know it because whenever she gives you her megawatt smile, there's always this almost inexistent wet smack sound coming from her mouth._

"_I can only promise you one thing…" You finally open your eyes and kiss her nose, what makes her face get all scrunchy and you smile coyly. "I will always love you the most. No matter what happens tomorrow."_

**################################################## #**

"Santana? Hey? Is anyone home?" Quinn is clapping right in front of you and you realize you might have lost yourself in memories again. Memories from the person you might've ruined the whole life.

"What the fuck, Fabray?" You push her hands away with a slap too and she pushes you against the tree, arm on your neck, like she's trying to choke you. She blows the smoke away and looks deep in your eyes. This always happens. Every time you talk a little louder to her or curse against her, Quinn always tries to punish you. Which is something you would find extremely attractive if you weren't set on another pair of eyes. "Oh really? You gonna choke me now?"

"Q…" Jones places a hand on Quinn's stomach and tries to smoothly push her away from your throat but she doesn't move an inch. "Seriously? Ain't no time for your screwed up white girl shit. Let Santana go or I'll kick your blonde butt."

When you came into prison, Quinn and Jones were already here and its remarkable the amount of respect they have for each other. If one says leave, the other leaves. If one says kill, the other kills. Some rumors say they came from the same mob gang, others say they're sisters from a foster family. But those are just rumors and you know there's a much deeper story behind all this.

Quinn takes her arm off your throat and you breathe in sharply. It's not like you were about to pass out but bitch is strong. You watch her walk away and Jones goes after her.

"It's her birthday, Santana."

"What?" You speak, still a little breathless, and look to your side where Broadway is still sitting down like nothing happened.

"Quinn." She opens one eye to look up to you and gives you a warm smile. "It's her birthday today."

"Fuck, and you're only telling me that now?"

She shows you her hands and you help her get up. "Walk with me, Santana." Before you could say or do anything, she's already holding your arm like you're her escort for the evening. "Shall we?"

"Lead the way, I'm your bitch."

She laughs and you smile too. Even though Rachel is a snarky annoying former Broadway star, you actually like to be around her. When she's not blabbering about how she was framed and how she had her whole career shinning ahead of her.

"Quinn always gets really bitter, more so than usual, when it comes to her birthday, you know?"

"More than usual?" Rachel simply shakes her head in agreement. "Uau. Here I was thinking one couldn't be more pissy pants than that."

"Well, Quinn is. As you may know I wasn't here when she first arrived but from what Jones told me, Quinn actually uh…" She stops and looks all over to see if someone is around and might listen. "Tried to overdose."

"Why the fuck would she do that?"

"Depression? I don't know. Every time I try to make her talk about her feelings and deep emotions, she always shoves me off. And I know what I'm doing, I swear. Back when I was studying theatre we learned how to catalyze our emotions to the right place and I know deep in my bones that she's not dealing well with something related to her birthday."

"Maybe she just needs some tough love."

"I don't think Quinn is that into lesbian intercourse, Santana."

You cough and laugh at the same time. This girl will seriously be the death of you. How can someone who claimed living among the stars not know what tough love means?

"Seriously, Broadway?"

"I'm sorry if I'm not familiar with your ways. Where I come from, you say.."

"Make love. Yes, I know. We all know. But there's no way on earth that girl would touch any of this." You say while moving your hands over your body to emphasize your point but you notice how Rachel's eyes got stuck on your chest area. "A picture would last longer."

"I'm sorry, I was just…"

"Whatevs. But back to Quinn… What do you think I should do?"

"I honestly don't know, Santana. Maybe trying to talk to her? Calmly because I don't want that choking incident to happen again."

"Oh, you saw it?"

"Just because I'm meditating doesn't mean I'm not here."

"Sure." You sigh. You can stop yourself from thinking what the hell is bugging Quinn so much about her own birthday. It should be a celebration of her life, not her death day.

"Happy birthday, shithole." You say while throwing a new book to Quinn's bed. _The Perks Of Being A Wallflower. _Was the best thing you could snap out of the library in such a short period of time. Of course it's not Quinn's favorite literature type but the intention is what counts, right?

"Oh…" She says while looks over at the book's description. "Nice book, for some 14 years old with personality issues."

"That's exactly what I said in the book store when I was getting it for you." A smirk is drawn on your face and you're feeling confident enough that you'll win this argument.

Quinn looks up to you with those damn puppy eyes of her and that damn lip biting and you already feel yourself losing. And when you thought she was about to start a huge fucking rant on how she's so much superior, she hugs you. She's stronger than you thought. Also warmer. So damn warm. Your mind is about to drift away to another kind of warmth you miss and you started to feel tempted to give her kiss exactly when someone saves you from public embarrassment.

"Inmates. Less contact."

Quinn immediately pulls back from you like that hug never happened and you look over to Evans who's just casually eating a fucking apple at your cell entrance.

"Piss off, fish mouth."

"Watch it, Lopez!"

"What are you going to do to me, uhm? Solitary? Been there. Psych? Can't send me there." You approach him and whisper. "Blow you? Sorry not sorry but I'll rather hit my head against a brick wall till I bleed out."

You start walking backwards and shove your hands in your pockets. One rule: Never stop eye-contact. And you never do. He takes another bite in his apple, looks over to Quinn who's already quietly sitting on her bed and walks away.

"You're crazy, Santana."

"And you've a lot to tell me."

She looks at you and it seems like she just swallowed a rock. Quinn clears her throat and looks away. "Who told you?" She talked so low that you almost didn't understood.

"Who do you think?" You sit back on your bed too, facing Quinn but she keeps looking away like she's too ashamed to make eye contact.

"Rachel…" Sigh. "How much do you know?"

"Enough for you to tell me the whole thing." You lower your voice a bit and remember Rachel's words about a calm approach. "What's wrong with your birthday Quinn?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Quinn gets up and puts the book you gave her on the _To Read Soon _pile just in time for the lights to turn off for _bedtime_.

You hear her footsteps, followed by the sharp sound of her getting in bed. Not giving it much at thought because you already know it's the worst idea you've ever had, you tip toe to her bed and lay down on the floor beside it.

"What the fuck are you doing, Lopez?" She whispers and you smile in the dark.

"Waiting."

"You'll get us both sent to solitary!"

"Tell me what's wrong and I'll go back to my comfy nest."

"You're such a horrible person, Santana Lopez. I should let you burn in hell." You can hear a thin laugh in her voice and that makes you smile too. Everything is better in the dark. And the coldest people by day, become the sweetest ones by night. "I killed someone."

"I know that Q." You sit up, even though you can't see a thing, and look to where you think she way. Maybe she's even lying with her back turned to you, as far as you know.

"I'm my mother's only child."

"I can't see what that has to do with a murder crime."

"Can you please let me finish? For the love of God, hasn't anyone taught you manners?" She hisses a bit too loud for someone who's supposed to be sleeping. You both stay still for a second, just in case someone shows up to take you to solitary but the coast is clear.

"Sorry sorry, go ahead."

"The man who helped my dear mother conceive me was this huge mob king, something like that. He had casinos, cars traffic and guns traffic. Truly a king of traffic. When I found out who he was I started to plan revenge against him for leaving us, even though my mother's heart broke every time she knew I was preparing it. I learned how to play blackjack, how to use a gun to perfection, everything. So I packed my bags and went after him. My poor mother was heartbroken that day…" Quinn's voice cracks a little bit and you move your hand to what you think it's her leg, as some sort of comfort.

"Keep going, Q…"

"Well then, long story short, I played at his casino one week till I caught his attention for being so good at it. His son, Noah, started to hit on me – and I must had the man has no game whatsoever but us getting involved was necessary. I managed to win his trust and fall in good grace with the father, which gave me full access to all the traffics. The initial plan was just tell him out but then he started to flirt with me, and now you might find me repulsive because I did felt it about myself, but I flirted back. One day I overhear Noah talking to one of his boys about how the whole business would belong to him if anything happened to is father…"

"So you decided to give the prince not so charming the empire?"

"Santana, please. I'm not an amateur." You both laugh and her bed wrinkles a bit with her moving. "I decided to kill two rabbits with one shot. So I seduced the father and made Noah caught us together, they went out to fight while I called the police to denounce the traffic, slipped one of the guns under my skirt and walked towards them to warn about how I had her one of the guards snitching to the cops about everything. Noah ran after him and the father asked me how I knew all that…"

"So?"

"So I told him there was no traitor among their pathetic mob family and reminded him about the girl he once caught in the bar and decided to knock up. At first he was confused but when he realized it was too late."

"You… " Clear your throat to pretend you were just coughing when you were about to talk way too loud. "You killed your own father?!"

"He was basically just a sperm donor anyway."

"Quinn Fabray, who knew? You're more badass than I expected!"

You hear her turn around in her bed again and now you know she's definitely showing her back to you. "Go to sleep Santana, you'll get caught there."

And she's back. The cold hearted bitch Fabray. You get up slowly and turn back to your bed, not even bothering on changing clothes. Simply lying on top of everything and staring at the selling. Absorbing every little detail of Quinn's story. How a simple man's mistake changed the whole life of such a beautiful girl…

* * *

You don't remember falling asleep but you do remember that your last thought was where Brittany would be and what she would be doing. Question that sadly and painfully was answered during breakfast time when you saw the group of new inmates passing the hall.

Quinn might have called your name, also Rachel. Mercedes might've been the one pushing you back by your pants but I couldn't listen. You couldn't stay there. You had to follow the group. There was only a blonde girl between them and she ways swaying around with her hands tingled behind her back. From your point of you it looked like she was actually happy to be in jail.

Karofsky ended the introductions by the bedroom joint and sent every inmate on their own till lunch time. Sort of get to know this shit joint on your own. He passed by you but you couldn't be bothered telling him good morning or whatever the fuck you were meant to say to be polite.

Suddenly it felt like one of those cheap romantic comedies movies where the hot girl turns around in slow motion and everyone drops their jaw at her. But this was no romantic comedy. No movie either. This was a prison facility. Place where love is a joke. But… When the blonde turned around and you saw that megawatt smile you felt like you were about to have a heart attack.

"Brittany…"

The words sort of came out of your mouth like you had no filter. They weren't loud enough for everyone to hear but they weren't low enough to be only for you. And she saw you too.

She smiled.

And giggled.

And you turned around to walk away.

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**A/N:** To Gnome, because I know how much you love Quinn. ;)


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